Dolls
by Elizabeth Fryn
Summary: "He never loved me, the way he loved the Priestess." It's not remotely a question.


They're walking into the evening again, in the vain attempt to elude responsibilities in the dark. The baby is sleeping, the palace is beginning to yawn, and even the moon has hidden in the clouds to give them some privacy.

It feels as though Houki has been her calming presence since they met. Years, or forever, however long ago that is. She maintained a little bit of sense in a world made up of opulence and magic. She often wonders if that's not part of the reason that the madness caught her, after chasing her back to her home country. Home, of all places. Though, when she bothers to ponder it, where else would it wait to catch her but inside her own front door?

Houki carries her burdens with grace, perfect as a doll in every way possible, except for the dark hair that tonight twists to snapping around long fingers with perfectly sculpted nails. Unlike Reika, who relies on distractions to hide her troubles under. Though she's not chasing Death now, and Death has left her be. It's Regret that knocks on her door when she's alone, though the mask hanging on the door handle usually wards him away. She still misses Houki when she travels. Chichiri understands pain and loss, but he's not a woman.

They've almost reached the water when Reika can't take her companion's distress any longer, and takes hold of the hand that seems so determined to fray the flawless braids. She tucks the arm into her elbow and they stroll arm in arm by the lake's edge. From the balcony they look normal, even refined.

"He never loved me, the way he loved the Priestess." It's not remotely a question, and Reika fights down the urge to conjure an inky beast, some sort of crisis, so that she can save the Dowager and avoid this conversation. But it's an old trick that Houki won't tolerate, and she knows that sooner or later it has to happen. The Dowager Empress and her Witch have responsibilities that don't allow for emotions unless they are concealed by a midnight walk.

There's an unspoken question that hangs in the air like a fog. It's not for the ears of infant sons and handmaidens.

"The love those men feel, and felt, for Miaka is not something for us to understand, my friend." Houki hangs her head. This, she already knows. But it isn't enough. Reika sighs, stops them. "Sit with me."

Their robes pool about them as they slide to the ground. The grass is damp, but it's refreshing. The rest of the world seems so damn oppressing. She explains to Houki, as best she can, what being guide to the Suzaku Seven has shown her.

"The bond they all feel is something supernatural... it's not just a loyalty but a compulsion. I believe that _that _is Miaka's power, other than being Priestess. The very strength of her heart is magnetic." She shakes her head, looking at a point somewhere past the Empress. "There are so many ways to love, and so many mistakes we can make in trying to tell them apart."

Houki picks at an invisible spot on her skirt. She's restless, but she's listening. Reika feels some hope, and continues to talk. She's no longer sure just who she's comforting.

"They were all so young when that started. Most of them were barely more than children, and so sheltered in their own ways. How were they to know what would happen, or how to fight it? Please Houki, I want you to understand. You were loved." She pauses thoughtfully. Realisation brightens her eyes. "You are loved. I feel his presence here every day. How else was he able to save your son so swiftly?"

Houki can't argue, because even though she doesn't understand chi in the way Reika does, she understands the look on her face. She decides to address Reika's fears, her own blowing away on the breeze. She enquires about Mitsukage, who she knows never made a proposal to Miaka. Reika answers warily.

"He had already met and lost the love of his life. His heart wasn't as susceptible as the others." Satisfied with this answer, Reika turns to Houki. But it's clear the Empress isn't finished. The moon even pokes her nose out from behind the clouds, eager to see what Reika might give away.

"And do you believe there is only one person for each of us?"

"I never used to," she answers carefully, "but I was never so sure of reincarnation before." Houki pulls the older girl close, and they enjoy the hug for a moment. Houki murmurs something in Reika's ear, of a traveling monk who has become suspiciously stationary in the months just gone. Reika pulls away with a sad smile.

"I'm not the reincarnation of a lost love." She answers. I'm a distraction from the nightmares that come on humid nights, she tells herself. A warm body in a thunderstorm. Houki stands, a little annoyed, as abruptly as if she had heard the thoughts aloud. Reika looks up at her. Houki begins to offer her hand, and then stops.

"You believe whatever you believe," she says, "and I don't have a blessed gift, but I know about longing, and you aren't the only one allowed to stare wistfully into the ether when you're pretending to meditate." Reika begins to argue.

"But I don't med... oh." Yes, oh, Houki finally smiles properly as she extends her hand fully. Reika grasps it like the lifeline it is. It's an unspoken truce, removing the embarrassment of defeat. The new moonlight glinting from Houki's jewels reminds her that they have lives to return to in the morning.

Later that night, when she finally returns to her room, she finds him waiting for her, mask at the door. When she looks out the window, all the clouds have gone from the sky.


End file.
